


Nat Geo Wild

by Mimi (SillyMimi)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1305715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyMimi/pseuds/Mimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames provides wildlife commentary on the solitary creature known as Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nat Geo Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this comedy gold](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZigahtFzeE).

Lounging near the watering hole of their work space in Prague, Eames leans over and whispers to Ariadne, "And here we have the wild Arthur in his natural habitat."

Arthur, hunched over his desk and scribbling away in his little black book, purses his lips as his forehead wrinkles.

"Perhaps," Eames says as Ariadne helplessly suppresses her laughter, "we'll see the creature's elusive smile, which gives the animal its scientific namesake, _wrinklus dimplus_." Ariadne wiggles and bites her bottom lip as Eames continues. "The Arthur's fleeting smile is said to put even the most stalwart of creatures into a nearly catatonic state." Ariadne shakes as she tries to keep quiet, and her delight has Eames grinning. "Researchers theorize that the animal's smile may be used to paralyze its prey so that the Arthur may then feast without struggle."

Arthur swivels his head around, his eyes narrowed. "Is he doing his David Attenborough thing again?" he says flatly, and Ariadne bursts out laughing, her hands flying to her mouth.

" _Yes_ ," she just about squeals, "oh, my God."

Eames grins, and Arthur snorts, facing his desk again. He mutters something to himself, but Eames doesn't catch it. He guesses it must be something like, "I will fucking stab you repeatedly in the eyeballs."

*

Cobb invites them all over for dinner, insisting that it's a casual get-together, and when Arthur walks in wearing _blue jeans_ and a striped _button-up_ , Eames gasps and pulls Ariadne to him.

"Here we have a real treat," he says in a hush, his cheeks burning with his grin, "the wild Arthur has shed its formal coat, revealing an almost _ordinary_ skin underneath. Truly fascinating." Ariadne makes an unattractive rasping sound in her throat as she tries not to laugh.

Arthur glares at him. "I swear to God, Eames," is all he says, and the tips of his ears look flushed as he carries a dish he brought into the kitchen.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Eames ducks his head and whispers, "Ah, we may have agitated the creature. Let's remain quiet and still, as the wild Arthur is known to make sudden, unprovoked attacks on undeserving, devilishly handsome Brits."

Ariadne may as well be rolling with laughter, her cheeks red as she wipes her eyes.

"Fucking gold," she says gleefully, and Eames beams at her.

*

During a job in central California, Ariadne arrives with lunch, an assortment of chicken wings and sides.

"Thank fuck," Arthur sighs, pushing his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and helping her unpack the food. "I'm starving."

Minutes later, when the boxes have been opened up and paper plates passed out, Eames decides that "starving" is a terrible understatement. Arthur actually _tears into_ his chili-lime wings, with zero regard for the shiny orange sauce coating his fingers and ringing his mouth. At first, Eames is so taken aback by Arthur's messy display (and also the urge to lick him clean) that he barely registers what exactly Arthur is doing.

Finally, Eames smirks and leans over to murmur beside Ariadne's ear, "We must be very quiet now, as the wild Arthur enjoys a meal." Ariadne snorts out of her nose and has to stop eating, covering her mouth with a napkin to hide her grin. Eames huffs a laugh and continues softly, "The creature can be extremely aggressive over its catch, hoarding it to himself and snapping at any other animal that may attempt to pilfer its food."

Across the table, Arthur narrows his eyes to slits. He points one of his saucy fingers at him, apparently trying to look threatening. "Don't," is all he says, then he ducks his head to tear meat away from bone with his teeth.

Eames pauses, then says quietly to Ariadne, "Watch the way the untamed Arthur effortlessly cleans flesh from bone. The creature is truly a magnificent killing machine."

Ariadne collapses forward, catching herself at the edge of the table and devolving in a fit of giggles, and Eames grins shamelessly. Across the table, Arthur minutely shakes his head and more vehemently eats his wings, glowering at Eames the entire rest of the meal. But Eames can't help but notice the tiny twitches of his mouth as he tries not to smile.

*

In a warehouse in Barcelona, Eames watches Arthur sleep beside Ariadne on mismatched lawn chairs, clear tubing attaching both their wrists to an open PASIV. He props his chin on his open palm and smiles, the immediate area otherwise empty except for the three of them.

Very softly, he says under his breath, "Here we find Arthur in a peaceful slumber. Although his claws have retracted, tension remains just under his skin, his body ready to pounce at the slightest threat."

He watches Arthur's eyes shift beneath his eyelids and smiles. "Why, the creature looks almost harmless this way," he says to himself, "one would never guess that he could cut a man from nave to neck with only an X-Acto knife."

In his peripheral vision, he notices Ariadne's eyes flutter as she wakes. At the same time, Arthur's eyes move rapidly under his eyelids, then he calmly blinks awake. He lifts his head to glance at Ariadne, then at Eames, who smiles at him.

"He is truly a stunning creature," Eames says, just loudly enough for him to hear.

Snorting air out of his nose, Arthur pulls the needle from his arm and rises to his feet, taking a moment to straighten his clothes before walking stiffly back to his work station. Eames follows him with his eyes, and he hears Ariadne huff behind him.

"Were you doing the thing again?" she asks, and it sounds like she's actually pouting. "And I missed it?"

"Sorry, crumpet," he says, flashing her a smile, "next time."

From somewhere behind him, he hears Arthur snort again, then mutter in either amusement or contempt, " _Next time_."

* 

It's dark in the empty, boarded-up storefront they've chosen as their base of operations in Tokyo. The room is lit by a couple carefully-placed floodlights, and Eames gathers his things to leave for the night when he hears a low voice humming a tune that Eames recognizes as "Beyond the Sea."

Pausing, Eames follows the soft sound, finding Arthur hunched over his desk, earbuds tucked into his ears as he scribbles notes into his moleskin. Raising his eyebrows, Eames moves closer, standing just behind him but now close enough to hear Arthur when he shifts from humming to singing the words softly under his breath.

"... _It's far beyond the stars / it's near beyond the moon / I know beyond a doubt / My heart will lead me there soon_..."

For a moment, Eames would say he's _enraptured_ by Arthur's voice, the quiet musicality of him, the obvious affection for the words themselves. He hits each note, despite the fact that it's no louder than a murmur, and Eames stays still and quiet, wanting to hear more.

"And here," he whispers, his own voice nearly shaking, "we have a rare treat, indeed. The wild Arthur is giving us his _mating song_. At first, he sings soft and constant, but his voice will rise the longer he goes without a partner." He watches Arthur reach up and rub the back of his neck between verses, sighing, and Eames crouches just behind him. "Although Arthurs show themselves as solitary creatures, scientists believe that the creature is actually quite lonely, as evidenced by this emotional display of longing."

Arthur, as if suddenly feeling eyes on him, turns his head and stares at Eames before pulling his earbuds out. "What are you still doing here?" he asks, his voice thick with exhaustion, and there's no trace of anger in his face or posture.

"Was just about to leave," Eames says, and he places a hand on Arthur's thigh, using the leverage to lift himself back up. He moves his hand to Arthur's shoulder, who doesn't bat him away, merely watches him. "Come on, darling," Eames says, giving him a little pat, "let's call it a night."

After a pause, Arthur rises from his chair and begins to silently put his things away. Moments later, he leaves the store with Eames, locking the doors behind them. They walk side by side, and Eames brushes his hand against Arthur's.

Unexpectedly, seconds later, Arthur nudges back, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth.

*

Tokyo's neon glow filters in through the window, and the first thing Eames does is cross the hotel room and slide the curtains shut. Just as he does, light blooms in the room, and he turns to see Arthur turning on the lamp beside the bed. His suit jacket's already off, hanging over the back of a chair.

Eames watches him loosen his tie, and he has a certain look on his face as he does it, a smarmy little smile like he knows Eames is mesmerized by him.

Licking his lips, Eames shrugs off his own jacket and dumps it at his feet, approaching the bed. "It seems the wild Arthur has chosen a mate," he says, his voice hoarse. Opposite him, Arthur's dimples press into his cheeks as he smiles a little wider, still closed-mouth but his eyes wrinkling at the corners. He slides the tie off and tosses it with his coat, starting on the buttons of his shirt and placing one knee on the bed, as if readying to climb up.

Hastily, Eames unfastens the buttons of his own shirt and whips it off. As he works open his pants, he says, somehow evenly, "It is yet unknown the kind of the lover the creature is, whether it is dominant or submissive, but our rare footage tonight will reveal the truth."

"If you're gonna do that all night," Arthur says, his voice lower and rougher than usual, and he slides out of his trousers as Eames does, "I will legitimately leave this room right now." Despite his words, though, Eames sees a flash of his teeth as Arthur grins at him, and Eames nods, his head reeling from that smile alone.

"Stopping right now," he says firmly, his voice clipped, and he crawls onto the bed in nothing but his boxers and socks, shuffling on his knees to Arthur. He takes Arthur's face in his hands and pulls him close, breathing in his air. "I'm going to take very good care of you, Arthur," he says softly, and it's a promise.

Arthur smiles, lips together again, before reaching down and shutting off the lamp.

*

On a patio chair in Milan, Eames wakes from a ten minute session of forging practice to Arthur's voice droning lowly in the background, affecting an awful English accent.

"...shedding his outrageous coat only to sleep or mate. The wild Eames is unnaturally attached to its outer coat, seeming to mourn its loss when he must leave it."

Sitting up on his elbows, Eames blinks at Arthur, who's sitting on a tall stool and leaning on a table with one elbow, a smirk upturning his mouth. At the same table, Ariadne suppresses a girlish giggle and tends to one of her maze models. "Hey," he says at last, putting on a wounded tone, "that's my thing."

Arthur grins at him, all teeth and dimples and wrinkles, and says, "It seems the creature has taken offense to my presence. I must remain very still, lest he run and hide."

Eames cocks his head, a grin blooming on his face as well. "That accent is atrocious," he says, and Arthur laughs.

"Guess you'll need to help me improve it," he says in his normal voice, smirking and his eyes alight.

Standing from the patio chair, Eames pulls his suit jacket back on and smirks right back. "Suppose I will," he says, sweeping past them but pausing to touch Arthur's thigh as he does.

Behind him, he hears Ariadne ask in a bewildered voice, "Wait, are you guys doing it?" Her voice squeaks. "Officially?"

"Finish your model, Ariadne," Arthur says, teasing and patronizing.

Eames laughs from clear across the room and calls, "We'll tell you when you're older, poppet!"

Ariadne makes a little put-off huff of a sound, and Eames glances at them to catch Arthur's gaze. They share a brief, secret smile from afar, Arthur's precious dimples showing, and the sight of them makes Eames grin all the wider.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, uh, I have a [tumblr](http://sillybuttmimi.tumblr.com/) now, if you're interested in that sort of thing.


End file.
